


Broken Self-Control

by flowerheadfreak



Series: The Gift of Magic [7]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-17
Updated: 2010-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerheadfreak/pseuds/flowerheadfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Warden finally gives in to her desires, just for a moment</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Self-Control

Traveling through Denerim wasn’t at all bad, in fact everything was going quite smoothly.  What had gone wrong?  Everything happened so fast, she felt as if she had no power over the situation.  The dark-haired Crow had demanded for Zevran, whom she fortunately decided not to bring at the time.  She knew who he was, Zevran had described this good-for-nothing worm to her once, the man who’d killed Zevran’s object of affection, slit her throat without remorse.  She lied through her teeth, telling him that she’d killed Zevran when he tried assassinating her the first time, and maybe he would’ve believed her had that elf not arrived so inconveniently.  Why she tried to protect him from this man, she had no idea, an instinct she supposed.

Taliesin had offered Zevran a place back in the Crows, the only catch being killing the woman who showed mercy to him, his friend.  She thought for a second that Zevran would accept, she feared that he would turn on her as quickly as he joined her.  That fear was unfounded for he’d chosen her, and a fight ensued, and she watched helplessly as Taliesin slid his blade effortlessly into Zevran’s lean chest, watched Zevran fall.

Something in her snapped.  She pulled her own dagger from her boot and stabbed the human angrily, but as Taliesin fell to the ground, tears streamed down her face.  Arabelle saw Zevran fall in battle a few times before, but this time it was different, like it was her own heart being ripped from her chest. 

It was a blur, Wynne running over to revive Arabelle’s assassin, Sten slaughtering every shadow-like Crow.  The thought of losing him was unquestionably _painful_. By the time every one of her attackers fell dead to the ground, Arabelle realized why exactly she’d felt this way, but she denied it.  There is no room in her life for such…_desires._

But she ran over to his side anyway. 

“Oh,” the golden-skinned assassin groaned upon touching the short blade pierced into his chest. 

“Don't touch it!” she ordered, slapping his hand away from the dagger desperately.

Wynne managed to remove the blade, bandaging the wound carefully, and Zevran had slipped out of consciousness once again.

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Although Wynne assured the petite elf that Zevran would be fine, she rushed back to Arl Eamon’s estate.  She quickened her normal walking pace into an almost-run down the halls and to Zevran’s room.  Not bothering to knock, she opened the door to find the ever-stubborn assassin sitting on his bed, better than when she’d last seen him.  She sighed, she just had to see for herself that he was fine, and she turned to leave.

“Leaving so soon, my dear woman?” he asked, looking up to meet her gaze.  Her heart stopped, seeing the way he looked at her, with a longing.  How easily she had disregarded this those nights at camp, especially when he offered his “Antivan massage,” but now she reveled in it.

“Yes, I just came to check up on you, you had me quite worried there, with your blood…bleeding,” she stammered, taking another wobbled step towards the doorway.  Oh, how she hated this feeling, the vulnerability it gave her.

“Arabelle, I have been wounded many times before if you must know, there must be a different reason you are here,” he smiled smugly. “To _comfort_ me, perhaps?”

To hear her name on his purring tongue gave her a thrill in a way that no one ever could, his presence made her more alert but relaxed at the same time.  Excited yet calm, and she had no desire to correct him, to ask him to call her by her childhood nickname.  She wanted nothing to do with her childhood innocence right now, she wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of his body embrace hers, his arms wrapped around her, his delicious inviting touch.

Still, she resisted, pushing her urges away.

“Yes, would you like me to escort you to the Pearl?  I’m sure there are one or two people you’d be interested in,” she joked, though she hoped he would not agree.

“Oh?  Although I would normally accept those terms, I _am_ wounded, I have a bit of a problem going too far.”

“Hmm, what a shame,” she replied, turning to leave, wishing she had the audacity to stay.

“Not even an offer to keep me company?  My, my, it seems you are losing your touch of generosity, my good woman.”

She chuckled, it was like he could see right through her.

“Well, can’t lose what you never had,” she chuckled, facing him again.  She was deliberately toying with him, luring him into actually asking her to stay.  If he knew what she was doing, she had no idea, but he refused to take the bait.

“Well then go, but if dear old Zevran here dies, it will be on you,” he said, patting his chest.

“Are you trying to guilt me into staying?” she asked, narrowing her dark eyes, throwing her hands onto her hips.

“You will stay if you wish it, yes?” he stated nonchalantly returning her glare with a raised eyebrow.

She dropped her arms from her hips back to her sides and sighed. 

_What are you doing to me, Zevran?_ she thought in frustration.

She made her way over to the side of his bed, and sat on the edge.  He watched in confusion, initially thinking she was going to shake her head and leave the room.  She’d always refused his advances, and now that she finally gave in, he hadn’t the slightest clue what was going on in her mind.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, Arabelle’s heart was fluttering, her hand was five inches away from his.  She _still_ resisted touching him, if she did, she would succumb to his touch, and she couldn’t have that.

“Here, it seems an appropriate moment to give you this.”

She hadn’t noticed until now, he was clutching something ever since she entered the room.

_An earring?_

She didn’t know it, but she voiced her thought almost inaudibly.  She looked curiously at the jeweled earring in Zevran’s hand. 

He nodded, and described its significance, a souvenir from a Rivaini merchant prince, his first contract.  She inquisitively glanced from the earring back to Zevran. 

_For the last time, I am _not_ Rivaini! _she thought, mistaking the gift as a question of her nationality.  Ever since she spared him, he kept referencing to Rivain because of her darker-than-usual-for-a-Fereldan appearance.

But she allowed him to continue, listening to the low hum of his voice, letting it flood her ears.

“I thought it was beautiful and took it to mark the occasion.  I’ve kept it since…and I’d like you to have it.”

She was taken aback for second, and said “This is a bit out of the blue, isn’t it?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea about it-”

_Ahh, so it’s not a gift from the heart.  Should’ve known._

“-You killed Taliesin.  As far as the Crows will be concerned, I died with him.  That means I’m free, at least for now.  Feel free to sell it or wear it…or whatever you’d like.  It’s really the least I can give you in return.”

“Uhh…” What would she say? –well, other than thank you.  So many questions were flooding her mind. “It’s a reward for helping you?”

“I…look, just…just take it.  It’s meant a lot to me, but so have…so has what you’ve done. Please, take it,” he stuttered, handing her the earring.  She accepted it graciously, finally realizing what he was saying.  She was making him nervous.

_Well, that’s a first, now I’ve got the upper hand._

She grinned. She could no longer reject what she felt, being overwhelmed by her wants, she kissed him. She had no idea what she was doing; this was a bit out of character for her.  Her mouth was gentle at first, and she touched his oh-so dexterous hand. 

 Zevran wasted no time, his hot mouth accommodating hers.  His tongue tracing her luscious red lips.  He pressed his hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer and closer to him, trapping her in his embrace.  The gentle kiss was now a little rougher, he wasn’t allowing her to breathe, to pull away as he knew she eventually would.  He pulled at her bun, and felt her soft black hair spill against her shoulders.  Oh, how he made her feel so feeble, so insignificant.  It was like she had no more power flaming from her fingertips, her much practiced self-control finally wavered.

She became aware that they were still on his bed, and she wasn’t going to permit _that_ to happen, no matter how much she desired his touch, hungered for it, she had responsibilities to her country.  She had to focus on Ferelden.

He wasn’t going to let _that_ happen either.  He felt something for her he hadn’t felt since Rinna died, confused as he was, he had to sort that feeling out.  Her presence was clouding his mind, tiny as she was, and before he knew it, she had escaped his hold. 

She gasped for air, cheeks flushed, she looked at him the way he never thought she would.  She _loved _him, she finally accepted it.  She couldn’t live without him, his clever remarks, his coy smile, his amber eyes.  Wherever this feeling would take her, she could deny it no longer. 

She stood away from his bed, his eyes meeting her not-so-innocent-anymore brown ones.  She hung her head, and unwillingly left the room before he could say a word, she was very skilled at leaving him astounded.

“How’s the bloody nug-licker?” Oghren sputtered, drunkenly as usual when she bumped into him as soon as she closed the door.

“Just fine,” she blushed, revealing a blissful smile she never revealed before.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my friend who somehow prefers Zevran over Alistair :)  
> Added in the earring bit to put in a sweet little moment


End file.
